So the Bone Lords are a Legion of my own creation, and most of my stories about them take place during the Great Crusade era. Really, I only have like two or three stories, but still. This is the first one I wrote, which was really just randomly inspired. It tells of the Legion's Primarch, and his warrior's prowess in battle. I want to say that when I originally thought up the Bone Lords, I didn't want them to be like the other Legions. I didn't see them as being as numerous as the Ultramarines & Word Bearers, or as bloodthirsty as the Space Wolves and World Eaters. I did not think them to be as cold and blunt in war as the Iron Hands or Iron Warriors were, nor were they to be so proud and haughty as the Emperor's Children, Dark Angels, or Luna Wolves. Also, it must be noted that I do not want them to be the forgotten Legion known only as The Purged. That would imply that they were killed, and I could not see that happening. They were, are, to be the Forgotten. They leave well before the events of the Horus Heresy, yet are not innocent of fratricide. And although I set out to make them as different from the other legions as possible, that simply cannot be so. They draw from the Space Wolves in that they heavily take after a certain animal, and they follow the Death Guard by way of their obsession with death and the bones it brings them. In addition, they are alike to the Iron Hands & Iron Warriors in that they are fond of heavy armor, and besieging cities. So without further ado, I present to you: Bear Walker
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Bear Walker
They roared their fury, their hate, their sorrow. Their roar was deep, primal, ursine. They roared as they killed, and did not stop until all their foes lay still. They roared for a long time. These bears, these skulls, these broken men, all. They were beyond us, and their roar shook the mountains. But one of them, one of them, roared the loudest, the truest. His hammer fell and his claws rose. His blades sang and his opponents screamed. To call him fury did no justice to his rage. To name him strength was an insult to his impossible might. To say he was divine was blasphemously true.
Where he walked, blood flowed. Where he trod, earth shook. He was Death itself, yet moved with more vitality than a raging volcano. While he lived, they died. He was greatness, he was tragedy, he was big man and fierce animal. He was Malgrand Ursis: Bear Walker, Skull Tearer, Earth Shaker. He was a moving mountain, at the head of Terra's Wrath. His sons, his Legion, his Bone Lords, could not be stopped. They were few, yet they were mighty. Large, even for their kind. Strong, further than reason knew. To stand before them was courageously foolish. To expect to live was undeniable insanity. You did not stop the Great Bear and his sons. The Skulls could not be denied. They went where they please, and in their wake Golden Servitude reigned. They roared as they came, and did not stop until the sky was choked with ash and the ground slick with blood. Not theirs. None of it theirs. They did not bleed. They couldn't.
Edited by GrimHavoc, 27 December 2013 - 06:20 PM.
